


How many ways can I say...

by AMac0218



Category: Sleepy Hollow
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 16:11:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6122082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMac0218/pseuds/AMac0218
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichabod tells Abbie he loves her in different languages.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How many ways can I say...

**Author's Note:**

> Just a very short oneshot. Not my idea, I saw it on Tumblr and I'll post the post below. I did change the ending a little though.
> 
> If this is liked I'm aways willing to doing 25 little chapters of each 'I love you'. Or around 25 since there's a few in this story already haha 
> 
> Hope this is okay!
> 
> IDEA FROM:
> 
> abbiehollowdays  
> Headcanon: Crane notices Abbie gets a kick out of him speaking in other languages so he makes a habit of greeting/speaking to her in as many different ones as he can manage.
> 
> She doesn’t know what he’s saying but it always makes her smile.
> 
> She doesn’t realize he’s told how much he loves her 25 times.

He noticed it the first time he spoke Latin from one of his ancient books about some monster they had been chasing. He’d been fluent in Latin, most men of that time were due to religion, so when he spoke, the words had tumbled easily, without effort out of his mouth, so much so he’d forgotten that he’d actually stopped speaking English. Until he looked up at her and noticed that she was staring. His brows brows lowered in confusion, “What?” he’d ended up asking and Abbie shook her head and went back to detective mode, searching the book in front of her for some answer to their latest, though Crane noted her stance and what looked like over concentration at the text.

 

After the first incident, he made sure to watch her every time he spoke a different language. An idea started to gather in his mind, and he was going to put it into action the longer his feelings for her became more pronounced in his consciousness. He was going to tell her his feelings for her in every language he knew, and every one he could learn.

 

But once again they’d been ripped apart from each others’ lives. She had taken the new Shard into Hell portal under Pandora’s tree. He’d gone into a blind panic and a determination that let him with little sleep as he searched for a way to get her back.

 

When he’d seen her after what seemed like a millennium, he wanted to spill the contents of his heart out before he lost the ability to speak with her, his original idea the farthest thing in the back of his head at the moment. But, as it seemed to be with most things concerning the two of them, he had her and then she was gone again. Abigail finally returned from that cursed place and came to him, her presence awakening every part of him, mind, body and soul, and quite literally woke him up from his unconscious state. 

 

He’d been trying to show her, since she returned, his true feelings. He wanted to take care of her even though he was very aware of the fact that she didn’t need anything in regards to that. He just knew that he lost her and he wanted to keep her safe, try and help her through everything he knew she was probably feeling. He’d made her dinner. A 5 star one if he did say so himself, and even more than that he was probably sure it would have been served in a Michelin star quality restaurant. 

 

Perhaps he was watching far too many cooking shows.

 

He was standing at the stove when Abbie walked in, causing him to turn, a striped apron around his neck and tied at his hips, smiling at her. He walked over to the table and picked up a match, striking it and lighting the candles he’d placed on the table. He gave the small flame a wave, extinguising it as he gave a small bow, the wave of his hand turning into a presenting gesture. 

 

“Buona sera, Signorina,” he said, the Italian falling from his lips just as easily as the Latin had what seemed like lifetimes ago. 

 

He supposed technically they were. 

 

Once again though he noticed a small gleam in her eye and he knew he had to tell her. Wanted to tell her how he loved her in every tongue he knew. If their last force separation showed him anything it was that now was not the time to mince words or to ignore what his heart had been telling him for years.

 

He was surprised when she answered back with a “Buona sera,” though it caused him to smile a bit.

 

She knew Italian. Or she might.

 

He made a mental note to keep all the romantic languages that stemmed from Latin out of his newest quest. He couldn’t risk her recognizing the word ‘amor’ in any of them.

 

He started simple, a small gesture here and there.

 

His first ‘I love you’ came when he was simply placing a mug of coffee in front of her, a muffin as well. He set them on the table and gave her a smile as he stood up straight, hands behind his back, shoulder squared as he said, “Miluji te.”

 

Abbie’s eyebrows almost met as she looked up at him, “Thank you, Crane, but...what?” she asked.

 

The Patriot shook his head, “Nothing. I was merely saying I hope you enjoy. Breakfast, the most important part of the day is it not?” he asked as he sat down at the table across from her and sipped his own coffee. He looked at her over the rim of his cup, thinking he should stay away from words with ‘te’ unless he had a good reason to use the word ‘you’ every time he told her how he felt. 

 

“Quite a mouthful for two little words,” she said, lifting an eyebrow causing Crane to shrug.

 

“Yes well, English is rather tedious.”

 

After he’d managed to clear the first obstacle, starting, he began slipping the words into everyday conversation. He was seated at her kitchen table, newspaper in hand as he read it, clearing his throat, “S’agapo,” he said as he looked at Abbie who looked at him, confusion on her face. “I apologize...it’s going to be sunny,” he said as he looked down at the paper, trying to make it seem as though he was reading about the weather.

 

“Uh, Crane?” she asked as she lifted the exact section he claimed to be reading, causing him to frown.

 

“Strange...the must have included two copies in this edition.”

The fourteenth time he’d said he loved her in another language was just after they’d come into contact with a nest of Harpies who had been summoned. They’d managed to take down two before Abbie had been pulled away from him, taken into the woods. 

 

Crane had chased after her as fast as he could in the SUV until he had to go on foot. When he’d finally found her, his face red, blood running from a gash on his brow, she was unconscious and on the ground, her body looking like she’d just been unceremoniously dropped in that one spot. He ran to her but was stopped, the Harpy screeching as she descended and struck at him with her claws. He rolled and grabbed the gun on the holster at his side, holding it up and firing a few times, his marksmanship being perfect. The creature dropped from the sky.

 

Ichabod didn’t even bother to take a moment to catch his breath, he ran over to her and skidded on the ground on his knees, the gravel biting at him through his trousers. “Leftenant?” he asked quietly as he reached down and carefully picked him up into his arms checking her pulse. His hand cupped the side of her face, long fingers curled around the back of her neck, as his thumb grazed over her cheekbone. “Leftenant, open your eyes,” he said as he gave her a small jostle. “Abigail?” he tried her actual name.

 

He was rewarded with a small groan and a quiet “Crane”, causing his heart to soar in his chest, as he pulled her to him, holding her against his chest. 

 

“Ta gra agam ort,” he murmured to her in Gaelic. He’d helped her onto her feet when she was okay and kept an arm around her waist, leading her to the car.

 

He’d managed to tell her 25 times over the course of 6 months. She hadn’t noticed that he’d told her he loved her 25 times. He’d told her that many times and something in him was terrified that when he said it in English she would shut down or run away. Neither of those things Crane wanted to happen.

 

He groaned as he sat on her couch, his eyes closed, sore, his ribs hurting, his arm in a sling due to his dislocated shoulder. Ichabod and Abbie hadn’t been fighting something mythological when he’d gotten hurt. No he’d been driving and was blindsided.

 

“Honestly all I wanted was some proper tea….we’re out and I refuse to use tea bags...and I hope whoever invented such a thing is being turned on a spit over a fire for all eternity while having to listen to Ben Franklin talk about himself,” he grumbled, more angry that he’d gotten hurt and ruined her car than over the product, even if he truly did detest them. 

 

Abbie lifted an eyebrow as she smiled, setting a glass of water next to him, “Please, don’t let my walking in here to deliver your pain meds stop your ranting. Tell me how you really feel about those horrid things,” she joked.

 

Ichabod deflated a little as he sighed, laying his head back on the pillow that was propped against the arm of the couch. “This is no time for jokes….I ruined your vehicle.”

 

“No, technically the other guy did. You were the one who was hit. So I’ll just get some money for the car, it’s no big deal, Crane, really,” she waved it off a little as she shook her head. A silence settled between them as she picked up her phone, though she was watching him over it, an eyebrow lifted. Her eyes took him in, still smiling just a little. “It was Thomas Sullivan back in 1908.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“The man who invented tea bags,” she shrugged. “Just thought you’d like to know.”

 

“I do hope the internet got pompous git to his description.”

 

Abigail snorted a quiet laugh at that and shook her head, “Iay ovlay ouyay.”

 

Ichabod turned his head when she spoke, shaking his just a little as he looked at her, “I’m unaware of that saying.”

 

“You can solve hundreds of years old riddles, but you can’t figure out a language all 6 year olds know? Come on now, Crane, you’ve been speaking the meaning in other languages to me for months.”

 

His face turned red at that, the blush reaching the tips of his ears. He cleared his throat as he shook his head, “I suppose it’s my current drug addled mind.”

 

“Your medication is still on the table and what they gave you at the hospital has definitely worn off by now.” The redness on his face vanished after a few seconds of thinking, almost as if he’d actually just heard the latter half of her sentence. “There it is,” Abbie smiled.

 

“You do? Truly?”

 

“Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it,” she said, leaning forward a little, her eyes moving to his mouth.

 

“One moment...Leftenant...how did you figure out what I was saying?”

 

“Oh it’s this little thing called Google,” she gave her phone a small shake as she held it between his fingers. “I was going to say it sooner but..”

 

He lifted his good hand and settled his index finger over her own lips, shaking his head, “You do not have to explain.” His hand fell away as he looked into her eyes, “I love you Abigail Mills,” he murmured. He went to move forward but stopped when his shoulder ached.

 

“Woah there, Captain,” she settled her hand on his chest so he laid back against the couch. She was smiling still at him. Her thumb moved over the muscle on the side of his neck, tracing the smooth skin. “I love you too,” she said as she closed the distance between them and kissed him.


End file.
